


Just Try It

by Boots (pwnmercys)



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Lessons, Shameless Smut, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pwnmercys/pseuds/Boots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moritz is distressed by his recent "sticky dreams;" thankfully, Melchior knows the remedy.  A more literal re-imagining of <i>Touch Me</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Try It

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in 2009, so if you've seen it posted elsewhere, that was probably me. I decided to edit and repost it where people who are new to SA fandom will be able to find and, hopefully, appreciate it.

It had begun as a typical afternoon of studying and idle chatter between Melchior and Moritz. The two boys were at the Gabor household, crowded around the small table in Melchior's room and reviewing their trigonometry notes. Moritz had a tendency to ignore exponents when he attempted to solve problems, and this had resulted in him receiving poor marks in mathematics.

"It means to multiply a number by itself," Melchior was explaining, "whenever you see that small 2."

Moritz scowled, and slammed his hand on the table in frustration, scattering papers. "I  _know_  what it means. That's the thing! I understand it, I do, it's only that I don't notice the notations. Lately I can't concentrate on anything at all! It's miserable."

Melchior was concerned. "You do look pale. Are you having trouble sleeping again?"

Moritz frowned, clearly frustrated. "It's the dreams I've been having, Melchi. Nightmares, I tell you! I just can't sleep."

"Nightmares?" Melchior's brow furrowed with worry. "What sort of things have you been dreaming of, that they would keep you awake all night?"

"Terrible dreams! I wake up from them covered in sweat and… something else! I have awful, sticky bad dreams…" Moritz shuddered at the thought, his bewilderment showing on his face.

"Oh, _that_  kind of dream! Well, that's not so hard to fix," Melchior laughed, "if you know what I mean!"

"What?!" Moritz nearly leapt from his chair. "There's a way to get rid of them?"

"Of course!"

"Melchior, _please_ tell me," Moritz practically begged. He clutched the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. "If there truly is a way to rid myself of these dreams, I have to know!"

Melchior chuckled and shook his head; he couldn't believe that Moritz hadn't figured out how to handle something as simple as a wet dream. "Moritz, you just have to masturbate!"

"Master what?" The word was about as familiar to Moritz as  _genitalia_.

"Masturbate. You know, to touch yourself?" Melchior lowered a hand to his groin and made a stroking motion. Moritz's eyes grew wide, and Melchior could only laugh at his reaction. "Are you honestly saying you don't?"

"Oh, no, Melchi!" Moritz shook his head. "Mama always told me it was a terrible thing to do. When I was small, she would slap my hand away if she ever saw me touching myself there. I didn't even understand why!" His widened eyes stared at Melchior in confusion. "Mama said it's wrong, and now here you are, telling me it's the only way to control these dreams?" His head sunk into his hands. "I don't understand any of this."

Melchior scooted his chair around the small table until he was seated next to Moritz, then wrapped a comforting arm around his friend's shoulder. "It makes a great deal of sense, if you think about it."

Moritz looked up, exasperated. "But Melchior, I  _am_  thinking about it. How could it possibly make sense? Please explain it to me! I'd do anything to take these horrible nightmares away."

"What happens, Moritz," Melchior began, "is that your body is always producing semen—the sticky stuff you talked about—and when it builds up too much, you have to release the excess somehow. So, either you release it voluntarily, or you end up having those dreams and ejaculating in your sleep. That's why you have the sexy dreams."

"But how can I release it voluntarily? How can you just  _choose_ to do it? Does it feel like peeing or something?"

At this, Melchior could not hide his amusement. "No, Moritz, I promise you it feels much better than that!"

Moritz hid his head in his hands again. "Melchi, don't laugh at me! I'm trying to understand. If it keeps the dreams from eja—ejacerating—well, how do I do it?

"E-ja-cu-la-ting. And it's not exactly the dreams that ejaculate, you do. That's how masturbation can help."

"Ejaculating." Moritz looked overwhelmed. "And masturbation, that can make you ejaculate, too?"

"Exactly." Melchior offered Moritz an encouraging smile. "When you touch yourself, it sort of… it sort of coaxes things out. And that way your body doesn't need to have those dreams to get release."

Moritz nodded his understanding. Then he blushed, the redness in his cheeks deepening and beginning to spread across his face. "But then how…? Do I have to touch myself… down there?"

Melchior had to stifle another laugh; he didn't want his friend to feel any more ashamed. "Yes, Moritz. That's what masturbation is." He gave Moritz's shoulder a friendly squeeze and smiled at him. "Do you understand now?"

Moritz gave a hesitant nod. "Well, yes. On a theoretical level."

"What do you mean?" Melchior looked at him, inquiring.

Moritz's face flushed an even deeper shade of red, all the way out to his ears. "It's just, I still don't understand—don't understand how you actually—well." Moritz cleared his throat, agitated, "…do it."

"You want me to explain it to you?" Moritz gave a slow nod, and it was clearly taking all his willpower to meet his friend's eyes. Melchior laughed again.

"Melchi, please—I'm ashamed enough! I came to you because I needed to know, and I thought you of all people wouldn't judge me."

Melchior stopped laughing. "Moritz, I wasn't making fun of you. I was only thinking, it would probably be easier to show you than to explain it to you." Moritz nodded, not thinking. "Of course," continued Melchior, "you'd have to get undressed first."

"What!?" Moritz grew even redder, if that were possible. "But Melchior!"

"If it would make you feel better, I can undress too. As I was saying during our discussion the other day, I don't believe a man would be so ashamed to be naked around his best friend if his best friend were also naked." Melchior shrugged. "That is, if you want me to teach you. I'm sure you could figure it out on your own. Most people do."

After a pause as if in thought, Moritz shook his head. "No, I want—I'd rather learn with you. I'm scared of it by myself." His gaze broke from Melchior's, shifting downward. "I think it would help.  I mean, if you were naked with me.  Could you?  So I feel less alone?"

Melchior nodded, and while his smile betrayed some amusement, it was also gentle with fondness. "Of course." He stood up from his chair and began to unbutton his shirt. For several seconds Moritz simply stared at the other boy's chest as it came into view. He'd seen Melchior shirtless many times before, but for some reason this time felt… different. To his dismay, Melchior noticed him looking.

"Moritz?"

Moritz shook his head briskly, the reddish hue resurfacing on his face. His fingers began fumbling with the buttons on his own shirt. Melchior had already removed his shirt and was now unbuttoning his trousers. It was all Moritz could do not to stare as his friend pulled the trousers off, then seated himself upon his bed to remove his stockings. As the stockings slid smoothly down Melchior's legs, Moritz couldn't help but watch, completely fixated. This was much more compelling than the legs in his dreams; every new inch of skin as Melchior disrobed seemed a revelation to him. Luckily, by the time Melchior looked up, Moritz had turned his gaze away and was ostensibly focused on the task of undoing his own trousers. He slid them past his waist, kicked them off, and peeled off his stockings without a word. He continued to sit awkwardly in the wooden chair, and looked to his best friend for further guidance.

Melchior gestured at him to come over. "You can come join me on the bed if you'd like." Moritz stood and walked over, if a bit unsteady on his feet, then seated himself stiffly on the bed beside his best friend. Melchior tugged at the sleeve of Moritz's unbuttoned shirt; the boy had forgotten to remove it. "You can take this off too, you know."

"Oh!" Moritz removed the shirt without a thought and let it fall to the floor, leaving both of the boys sitting on the bed in only their undergarments. That is, until Melchior slid his down, and scooted further up on the bed until his head was resting on a pillow. He lay there, gloriously outstretched, and gloriously nude. Melchior patted the mattress beside him. "Oh," said Moritz again, "you want me to come up there too?" Melchior nodded. Moritz paused. "Do I have to take my underwear off now?"

"Only if you want to."

Moritz considered this briefly, then shook his head. The situation was already a bit overwhelming; Moritz would rather postpone any further discomfort if he could. He maneuvered himself up further on the bed until he was resting next to the nude Melchior. "All right. Well… here I am."

Melchior nodded. "So, you want me to show you how it's done?" Moritz gulped and nodded quickly. Melchior began, "First, just run your hands all over your body. Notice what feels good. Don't just touch your penis, get to know your whole body."

Melchior demonstrated, running his hands down his arms, then across his chest. He massaged his pectoral muscles gently and brushed teasing fingers across his nipples. He allowed his hands to slide down his sides to his hips, which lifted off the bed to meet his own touch.  Moritz paid rapt attention—was Melchior's body responding of its own accord, he wondered, or were his movements carefully scripted to be educational? He watched as Melchior's hands wrapped around his legs to caress his inner thighs, his fingers stroking down and then back up until, _finally_ , Melchior allowed himself to touch his hardening cock, massaging gently along the bottom of the shaft with his fingertips.

"Do you follow me?"

Moritz gasped and tore his eyes away from Melchior's hands, embarrassed at how intently he had been observing. When at last he met his friend's gaze, Moritz nodded.

"Now you try."

Moritz swallowed, nervous, then closed his eyes and lay back on the pillow, hoping to make himself feel more comfortable.  He ran his hands through his hair, then down his face, sighing softly as he caressed his body. He let his hands run slowly down the sides of his neck, then to his chest. When he tried massaging his nipples as Melchior had done, he let out a gasp. The feeling was incredible.

"Feel good?" Melchior's voice betrayed the smirk on his face.

"Yes! Oh yes." Moritz's eyes were half-lidded as he continued to brush his fingertips lightly across his nipples.

"Why don't you try pinching them a little?"

Moritz followed his friend's suggestion. " _Oh_ …" he gasped and thrust his hips upward involuntarily. That answered _that_ question. It felt positively electric, as if the feeling in his nipples was shooting straight to his groin. He twisted his nipples and tugged at them, pinching harder. "Oh god. Oh god!" Unbeknownst to him, Melchior licked his lips and began to stroke himself.

"That's it, Moritz, you're doing fine." His voice was breathy and urgent, coarse in a way Moritz had never heard it before. "Now, try feeling the rest of your body."

Moritz whimpered at the thought of having to stop caressing his erect nipples, but he trusted that even greater sensations were to come. After giving one last, firm twist, he traced his hands further down his body. He ran his fingers along the bottom of his ribcage and out toward his sides, then slid his hands back up to the center of his body and followed the trail of hair that led down to the waistband of his underclothes. He looked to Melchior for guidance.

"Just keep touching. Find out what your body feels like, and what your body likes to feel." Moritz noticed that his friend was stroking his own shaft. After staring for several seconds—which only seemed to encourage Melchior more—he lay back, closed his eyes, and let his hands slide over the fabric of his underwear, his touch feathering lightly across the bulge that was evident underneath. He traced the hem at the juncture of his thighs, sliding his hands down along the inside and then back up along the outside of his legs. When he got back up to his hips, he slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and slid them down and off. Melchior stared at his friend's hard cock, then let his glance run the length of his friend's body, down to his feet and slowly back up to his face. "God, Moritz, you're beautiful." Moritz blushed. "Mmm, you should try stroking yourself now."

Moritz's hand moved tentatively to rest on his penis, then gripped himself clumsily and began to move his hand up and down. It was obvious that it was an unfamiliar gesture. He looked up at Melchior. "Like this?"

Melchior nodded. "Yes, something like that. Here, let me help you." He wrapped his hand around Moritz's, guiding it up and down, up and down, until his friend became comfortable with the rhythm. "You see? It's easy, and it feels good."

"It certainly does." Moritz began to move his hand faster, squeezing slightly as it slid across the tip. Melchior decided that the boy now understood what he was doing and could please himself—not to mention that touching Moritz had made him obscenely aroused—and he let go of Moritz's hand to return to his own, now-throbbing erection. Up and down he stroked it, up and down, faster and faster. He could hardly stand it.

"You can use your other hand to play with your nipples again," Melchior panted, "while you touch yourself. If you want."

Moritz nodded heartily and did as Melchior suggested, causing himself to moan loudly and thrust hard into his fist. " _Fuck_ , this feels good!" he hissed.

Melchior could only groan in agreement. Watching Moritz masturbate, hearing his friend's moans and gasps beside him, made him feel more turned on than he had ever been while doing this alone. He stroked himself faster and faster, rocking his hips up and down as his breathing also grew more rapid and shallow. Lying here, touching himself next to his best friend, watching Moritz and knowing that Moritz was watching him, drove Melchior absolutely mad. When Moritz let out a loud and enthusiastic moan, that was all it took to send Melchior over the edge. He gasped, pumping his fist up and down and up and down as he felt the movements of his hand grow slick and sensitive. Now he understood what it meant to let heaven break over you. That was the most intense orgasm he could ever remember having; the aftershocks seemed to course through his entire body.

Melchior then turned to look at Moritz. He was staring hungrily at Melchior's body, unsure why he was feeling what he was. He couldn't have explained the feeling if someone had asked him; it was almost as if he felt on edge in a way he had never felt before. If it were possible to feel on edge in a good way—to feel as if every nerve were stretched to its limit in a sense that was not miserable but instead positively delicious—this was it. When he saw Melchior ejaculate (he had a self-satisfied feeling about knowing what it was called now), his body quivered, and he knew without thinking that _that_ was what his own body craved. His hand moved faster and faster, and he threw his head back heedlessly. Melchior leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Moritz, you're amazing. I love watching you."

Moritz's moans became more and more high-pitched as he felt the rapid buildup of his orgasm. "Oh, Melchi, is this—is this—?!" He let out a sudden squeak as his body answered his own question. " _Ahhh!_ " He had no experience in aiming his orgasm; consequently, as he came, it spattered across his chest and abdomen, with a few drops even landing on Melchior. He continued to breathe in shallow gasps as he tried to speak. "That—that was—was incredi—now I understand why people—oh god."

Melchior smiled in satisfaction. He hadn't made Moritz come per se, but the knowledge that it was because of his guidance that his best friend had had such a pleasurable experience pleased him as well. "Better than your dreams?"

Moritz nodded as enthusiastically as his overwhelmed head could muster. " _Yes._ Oh yes." He closed his eyes and let himself fall back into the pillow and lay there for several long seconds, his face an expression of bliss. Suddenly, his eyes opened again and he turned to look at his friend. "So Melchior..." He looked down at himself, then back up at his friend. "... how do I clean up all this mess?"

Melchior's laughter this time spoke only of endearment. "Oh, Moritz." He picked up his own cast-off shirt, and wiped Moritz's ejaculate off of both of them.

"Melchi!" Moritz glanced up at him with a look of pathos. "What I—what we did—," at this point Moritz looked down again, "it made a sticky mess anyway."

Melchior could only shake his head. His friend was hopeless. "Yes, it did. Let's get you to the bathroom and we'll wash up."

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a sequel: [Now There, That's It](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7642258).


End file.
